


The Radiodust Gun Fanfiction

by RankSauce



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Confused boner, Gun Kink, Human AU, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Position of power flip flop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RankSauce/pseuds/RankSauce
Summary: Alastor finds himself in an untimely predicament involving a trigger happy blonde gang member, a humble revolver, and his unexpected boner.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 126





	The Radiodust Gun Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore the title I actually have no idea what to name this

Alastor found himself stopped in his tracks, a revolver subtly held by the waist of this blonde young man standing before him. No action was taken yet, but Alastor knew better than to give the other any more reason to react. Even so, the young man lifted the gun to rest in front of Alastor’s chest, shifting his gray fedora with his other hand.

Alastor slowly started to lift his hands a little later than he probably should have, but better late than never. This slow action seemed to irritate the other man, he hoisted the gun higher with deliberate aim to just touch the bottom of Alastor’s chin. Alastor’s hands shot up half way almost immediately, not too eager to go above his head, afraid of seeming too apprehensive. 

Standing still, Alastor waited for what he could only assume to be a fresh cut gang member out on a job to say the first word. The slightly taller man who seemed about a decade or two younger than Alastor looked straight into his eyes with a somewhat unsure expression, almost like he was reconsidering if it was necessary to pull a gun on him. The contemplation had the young blonde shift slightly, and caused what felt like a brand new, freshly shined revolver to push up on Alastor’s chin. 

Usually being the one behind a deadly weapon in such scenarios, Alastor had never had a gun pointed explicitly at one of his vital areas, much less protruding directly on his bare skin. The sensation of the muzzle end grazing the sensitive skin under his neck sent a sort of violent shock through Alastor’s body. The feeling was new of course, but a lot more needed to be unpacked than just that. It was exciting. Almost too exciting. Alastor tried his absolute best to keep his composure, no movement or swaying. The more he tried to keep a calm facade the more the feeling grew. Pretending it wasn’t there was part of what made it exhilarating.

Finally the young man broke the silence, “I dunno what you saw, buddy, but I know you gots places to be that ain’t here.”

Trying his damnedest to not come off as flustered, Alastor replied calmly, “Of course, sir.” 

The face he gave off seemed like it was meant to mock the fact that obviously Alastor didn’t want to be in this situation right then. The young man didn’t seem to notice.

“Ha! ‘sir’? Neva had someone so old call me sir.”

The more Alastor heard him speak the more he gleaned that this man was definitely italian mafia.

“Yer like, what, 40 someting? No need ta act so chippa, I ain’t a broad, pal.”

His tone was very easygoing, it felt completely inappropriate. However, Alastor was guilty of using the same method with his own victims, so he couldn’t say much on that. This particular instance didn’t seem like a false sense of security tactic though, more like a naive mistake of not grasping how serious the situation was.

Alastor couldn’t focus on the fact that he was basically being insulted, brushing it off and not wanting to forget he wasn’t in a position to be angry anyway. The entirety of being in this weaker position aggravated him on the surface, but boiling inside him was this disgusting feeling of actually enjoying it. Not so much the fact that he wasn’t the one in control for once, rather that by the tiniest motion of a trigger finger held by this nonchalant wannabe ganster in front of him could end his life in an instant.

Alastor instinctually wanted to fight for the upper hand in that moment, but if there was any hope for that he had to be smart. Fighting for dominance, a bullet threatening to give him the sharpest sense of pain he’d probably ever felt in his life, all ending in that moment, all those factors made him feel things, feel things he shouldn’t.

The combination of those feelings was something he didn't understand itself, but it started to churn and mesh into a feeling he was relatively familiar with. He didn’t recognize it at first because why would he? It made absolutely no sense for this. Alastor couldn’t ignore it as it built in his gut. The other man was still blabbering on but he didn't hear it, he was trying so hard to squander this feeling, doing everything he could to bury it away. Fighting it just ended up making it worse, the wrongness and outlandish nature of it just added to the excitement. 

Fingers in front of his face literally snapped him out of his trance. “Ey, I know I can talk a lot, but now’s not da time to be ignorin’ what I gotta say, four eyes.” The revolver was pressed harder against Alastor’s chin, probably the worst thing that could happen right then.

“I don’t got the easiest means of keepin’ ya mouth shut at da moment, but don’t think I can’t work with what I got.” The gun barrel was pushing Alastor’s head back, it was almost unbearable.

The young man sensed the unusual tension in Alastor's face; he’d held a light smile this whole time which was weird, but something was extra strained at that particular moment. He should’ve just figured it was him more directly threatening his life, but something was definitely off. He looked down Alastor to assess his body language, and there sure was a true tell sign that something was up.

His head was locked, looking straight down for a few solid seconds. Alastor wasn’t looking at the young man anymore, his eyes were unfocused, looking out into the distance. Eventually, he noticed the long pause and shifted just his eyes to see the other man’s face.

Abruptly cutting into the short bout of silence, the younger man still pressing up on that revolver said “Are you hard???” louder than either of them would have liked.

Alastor made an involuntary gesture with his eyes, looking down as far as the younger man was, even though he couldn’t see himself. This was beyond embarrassing, thankfully no one else was around or this whole debacle wouldn’t be playing out in the first place. 

Alastor didn’t know how to respond, so he just didn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Alastor hadn’t even realized he had a hardon, he didn’t know when he got it or how long it was there. At that point he needed to rethink the plan he was concocting in his head to turn the tables, because he had absolutely no idea how this guy was going to react.

Alastor was waiting for a disgusted expression, or maybe a strong wack against the head with the back of the man’s gun to knock him out. The other man just looked up at him and carefully inspected his face. Embarrassment, shame, panic, and an awkwardly placed smile, all things he should have seen. “Hm…”

He moved the gun slowly away from his chin, perhaps thinking of a different vital point to place it. Alastor’s mouth opened slightly, and the young man took advantage of that in a hurry. He basically shoved the barrel into his mouth, not too far, just about an inch or two. Alastor’s smile was gone right then, trying to accommodate the unexpected intrusion. Afraid of the other going too far, he tried to stop the barrel with his teeth, but knew better than to bite down. 

This guy just inserted the barrel of a gun in Alastor’s mouth after he saw he had a boner, shock was hardly the best way to describe Alastor’s reaction, his brain just went off at that time. He didn’t know whether to be more aroused or freaked out. He wanted to punch this guy in the face full force, but all he could do was freeze. His shoulders were uncomfortably tense, the fingers on his hands outstretched, hands still held up in the same halfway position.

Time felt like it was going a million miles a second while also somehow being utterly frozen. Alastor had gotten chills up his spine before, but none that didn’t feel like a chill and felt more like a blazing heat. His face was burning and he knew it was obvious, if he hadn't noticed the tightness in his pants before he sure noticed it at that point.

A smile crept up on the young blonde in that gray fedora. Alastor noticed how the hat was pushing down on his almost overly full head of hair, making it cover in his face more than it would if he wasn’t wearing it. His expression was mischievous, letting him know he knew exactly what he was doing. Alastor couldn’t decide if it irritated him or turned him on.

“I guess you’s a little freak ain’t ya, ciccio?”

His voice was painfully quiet, adding more accent on the last word. 

Alastor could tell he was going to be egged on. He observed how the younger man hadn't made him put his hands behind his back or lift them higher all that time. He figured out at some point that his hands had been level with the gun during their entire interaction, so he assumed the other hadn’t realized yet. Clearly the other was inexperienced, so Alastor decided that was his chance to take advantage while the young man was distracted with trying to tease him.

He quickly grabbed the gun with both hands and hastily pointed it upward away from his face. The young man’s finger wasn’t on the trigger so it didn’t go off when Alastor pulled it around the other’s body. After pivoting him by the arm, Alastor removed the gun from his hand and had his whole arm pinned behind his back. Not wasting time trying to grab the other arm, he shoved him face first into the ground, then being able to pin back both arms.

“Hey hey hey wait- wait, buddy I was jus jokin’. C’mon you could tell I was jus messin’ wit ya! We all got our own tings we’re into.” The young man was on the ground completely flustered, taking a stark 180 from his demeanor just a second ago. “I mean I’m considered a degenerate myself, it’s no big deal- I uh- and I didn’ mean nothin’ when I called you four eyes. It’s endearing really- y’know, makes ya look smart and all that.”

Alastor enjoyed when his victim would beg for an out, but he was in no mood, the nervous rambling was just annoying.

“Yeah see yer a smart guy, c’mon we can work this out without doin’ nothin’ rash here. Ya want money? I got money- sex- women, I can get those too.” Alastor still had him pinned on the ground, figuring out where to go from there.

“I mean unless yer not inta women, I can work that out for ya, uhh, as I said, I’m a degenerate so... um.” His voice became less panicked and more retracted in shame.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel like he was the reason this guy was offering himself up for sex, he couldn’t really blame him, he technically started this. Nevertheless, this younger guy’s blathering was becoming more and more annoying. He picked him up holding him by the wrists.

“Heh.. I’m probably not helping my case, you probably just gonna kill me ‘cause I said that.” 

Alastor finally spoke after the longest time. “It was clear already you were interested in men.”

“...You don’t exactly sound like ya hate that fact.” The young man said in monotone, unsure if it was the right idea to leverage this topic for an escape.

Alastor honestly couldn’t care less what “degenerate” activities the young man was implying. How this entire thing played out made every fiber of his being ill at ease. Still, Alastor couldn’t deny the lingering arousal he felt. He thought to take the opportunity to mess with the younger “killer” since he was in the mindset to stomach it.

Thinking for a short moment, Alastor walked them over to a wall and pulled the other over to position him facing up against it. The young man had two guesses as to what he was about to do, one ending with his splattered brain decorating the ugly brick, or the same way it goes another night at the “bar.”

* * *

The young man was visibly uncertain and anxious. He heard a small click next to his ear and felt the same revolver he held just moments ago touch the back of his head. Alastor let go of his wrists but he didn’t move. “Turn around,” Alastor said. There was still no space between him and the gun, and that wall he was pressed up against wasn’t farther either. He rigidly shuffled to turn his body around while remaining not a centimeter away from the same spot he was standing. He made sure to put his hands up, laying them back against the wall when his body was fully turned.

The used to be confident, italian mafia mobster was then looking straight down the barrel of his own revolver. Tension was at max in every muscle in his body. Alastor just looked blankly at him, arm outstretched steadily holding the gun. He said nothing, expression unreadable with that strange smile back up on his face. After a long, motionless moment, the young man guessed it was his turn to break the silence again. 

“...What do you want me ta do?”

“What do you think I want you to do.”

It was hard for him to see, but Alastor had moved the gun down an unnoticeable amount from where it had been. Before being set firmly between his eyes, the gun was then a mere inch away from his mouth.

The young man was still at a loss, he couldn’t think of any other implications, but the option he was being offered didn’t seem right either. “Make the wrong choice and I pull the trigger.”

That was it then, that was his out, and if he was wrong, he was dead. He figured if that was how he was going to go he should at least get one more crude joke out of it. “Ya want me to pretend it’s yer cock, huh? I’d say you ought to do yaself justice and get a bigga gun.” Alastor’s expression didn’t falter and he remained still.

That was the last non-existent invitation he could dig for. He wanted to retract his face into his head, blowing the barrel of a small revolver wasn’t the first thing on his list of what he wished could be his last act. He couldn’t be sure this was right, but he didn’t have any other choice. Maybe he could work for pity points and act like he’d be “doing him a favor” if he killed him right there, but honestly he’d rather suck off a gun than stoop that low.

Finally he made his move, and slowly but surely his lips reached the muzzle end, he stopped and looked for any indication this wasn’t the right move. Getting nothing from Alastor, he let his lips smooth over the barrel as it went deeper in his mouth. Almost reaching the base of the barrel, he felt the hand holding the gun move, and he pressed his eyes shut. He became completely still once again. What was only a split second felt like an eternity, then he heard the familiar sound of a pulling on a trigger. A quiet snap went off as he opened his eyes and gasped slightly, strained and uncomfortable with the barrel still fully in his mouth.

The trigger was pulled? But nothing happened? He looked up to Alastor and saw him gracefully maneuver an enclosed fist in front of both of them. Alastor opened his hand to reveal all the bullets and casing removed from their holster.

* * *

Alastor’s expression was almost childlike, glee and amusement illuminating his face.

The young man wanted to say, “Why you,” but the gun wouldn’t let him. Alastor swiftly let go of the gun, it hung from the other’s mouth for an instant and then fell to the ground. The young man promptly started coughing and wiping the spit away.

Alastor was betting that he had another gun hidden in his jacket somewhere, but he was so pleased with himself he thought he could press his luck for the time being. The young man was hunched over coughing for a short while, Alastor wanted to laugh at how he just got him to embarrass himself, but decided against it lest he forget his own still prominent erection. Watching that little performance certainly didn’t help.

He had gotten his brief revenge but it hardly felt like a victory, they were both thoroughly humiliated.

This naive, young, would-be murderer didn’t seem like the type to spring out another gun after what just happened. After his coughing fit ended, he halfheartedly looked up at Alastor. His expression was more forlorn than it was angry, a mix between that and annoyed. Safe to say he felt defeated in his degenerate game

“Sorry, chap, you ought to learn when’s the time for games, or at least be better when you play.” Alastor said ending with a light, disingenuous chuckle.


End file.
